I Heard It Through The Grapevine
by kerigocrazy
Summary: Bella Swan returns to Forks after twenty years gone, looking to put down roots, but this sleepy little place has more secrets than most. When a strange man with paper thin skin purchases old Cullen's Lo,t a real life horror story begins. Twilight/Salem's Lot mash-up. Tied for Winner of the Cult Classic Award in Tricky Raven's "A Haunting in Forks Contest."


**Title:** I Heard It Through The Grapevine

**Pairing:** Embry/Bella

**Genre:** Horror/Tragedy

**Universe:** AU

**Rating:** MA

**Prompt Number:** 18

**Category:** Tied for Winner of the The Cult Classic Award - It Will Go Down In Halloween History in Tricky Raven's A Haunting in Forks Contest"

**Summary: **Bella Swan returns to Forks after twenty years gone, looking to put down roots, but this sleepy little place has more secrets than most. When a strange man, with paper thin skin, purchases old Cullen's Lot a real life horror story begins. Welcome to a ghost town.

**Warnings and Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Rating is for language and mature emotional themes.

**A/N: **Thanks to my beta, Maria Vilson. All mistakes are mine and mine alone. Rating is for language, sexual themes, violence, gore, and major character death. This story is a mash-up of _Twilight_ and Stephen King's novel and the movie based on it _Salem's Lot_. A few scenes were adapted directly from his book.

In a small room deep in Mexico City, a pale woman with golden eyes stood in an uncomfortable huddle with two large Native men.

"What do we do?" One asked, disbelief trailing across his face.

The woman took a deep breath and met his gaze. "We burn them."

~oOo~

GHOST TOWN IN WASHINGTON?****

By John Lewis****

Press-Herald Features Editor

Forks, Washington is the quintessential small town, the kind of place where you go to retire in solitude and people feel safe raising their children. Bordering the stunning beaches and forests of the Quiliete Reservation, it's the perfect scenic destination for early morning fishing and nature hikes.

But a little over a year ago, something began to happen in Forks that was not usual. People began to drop out of sight. The larger proportion of these, naturally, haven't disappeared in the real sense of the word at all. This reporter brings statements direct from public officials of neighboring towns, including Mayor Richard Green from Port Angeles who stated, "Forks is a city of ghosts."

Some of the missing have, of course, been accounted for. Angela Weber, the minister's daughter, was recently interviewed from her bed and breakfast in Vermont. Rebecca Black, eldest daughter of the tribe's active chief, was discovered living with her husband and two children in Hawaii. None of them had any clue what has become of the lost...

One Year Earlier

The rain poured down as if God had tipped over a giant pitcher, sheets of water streaking the ever present gray that was Forks, Washington. Bella Swan hadn't been to visit her father here in almost twenty years, but she could remember the endless rain. Used to the dry, sunny desert that was Phoenix, her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly what color she had leeched away, and she was developing a crick in her neck from leaning forward in an attempt to see.

"Shit, Charlie," she grumbled to herself. "You better be happy I'm doing this for you."

When her mother left her father in a fit of free-spirited pique, Bella had only been ten years old. Charlie was a quiet man, who, instead of fighting to keep his wife and daughter close, had stood stoically by as they drove away in her mother's '89 Dodge Shadow, the right side of the back bumper grazing the asphalt on the drive.

She'd spent the first eight years moving from town to town across the country, following her mother from yoga class to meditation hour. When she turned eighteen, she ran straight toward normal. Four years spent at Georgetown University studying journalism, and another two at Johns Hopkins for her Masters. The most humorous part of it all, she thought, was that when she finished college, she'd fallen right back into the life of a nomad, moving from story to story within the US and without, following the news.

The time had come to plant some roots for awhile; she'd decided to take a break from the papers and try to write the novel that had spent the last ten years brewing in the back of her mind. When Charlie offered her his guest room, she jumped on it, figuring it would be a good chance to finally get to know her estranged father too.

After what felt like years, she finally spotted her father's small home and pulled into the cracked drive with a sigh of relief. It appeared that her police chief father had developed a homing beacon over the years, because the minute her battered old truck pulled onto the street, the curtains twitched and he was on the porch to greet her before she even made it out of the car.

Her door opened with a loud groan and he was there immediately to greet her. "Bells."

"Hey, Char—Dad." She leaned in to to give him an awkward one-armed hug before reaching behind her to grab her suitcase.

"Is that all you got?"

"Yeah, other than a couple boxes of books and my desktop. Those should be delivered sometime tomorrow. Hey, thanks for letting me stay. I really appreciate it."

A faint blush overtook his scruffy cheeks as he took the bag and led her inside. "It's no problem kid. Missed having you around this old place."

Old was the right word. While everything was relatively clean and put together, her father would not be winning housekeeper of the year award. Thick layers of dust coated the furniture, which seemed to be the same set from her childhood, and the house looked to be in need of some repairs.

He followed her gaze around the living room and shifted uncomfortably. "Have to do some decorating now that you're here. Never was good at that. It was all your mom."

She gave a light laugh as they moved up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. "No problem, Ch—Dad. I'm not really high maintenance. As long as you've got hot water and a working coffee pot, I'm good."

"I've got those."

They stood next to the small, twin bed looking at anything but each other. "Alright, well, I think I'll take a shower and jump in the sack; it was a long drive."

"Right. Well, then, night."

~oOo~

Two days later, Bella found herself walking the vaguely familiar shores of First Beach. The night before, over pizza and beer straight from the can, her father had regaled her with stories of her time spent on the Reservation when she was young. Mud pies made with Jacob Black and her very first crush on shy, sweet Embry Call.

Her recollections were hazy, but there, hidden somewhere behind the way her parents used to smile, before they fell out of love, and that last look on Charlie's face, she could picture russet skin and a sunny smile, a grubby hand gripping hers as they tiptoed through old Mrs. Ateara's garden. There were good memories here, mixed with the bad; she just had to find them.

Navigating carefully around rocks and brush blown from the woods lining the beach, she almost missed the silhouette of a large man sitting hunched over on a log where the sand met the trees.

He didn't miss her, though. "Bella? Bella Swan?"

His voice alone caused a hitch in her throat and a flip in her stomach as she spun around to look at him. "Yes. I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The man stood up, and up, and up some more, stretching out to well over six feet before walking slowly closer with his hands tucked into his jean pockets. "Embry Call."

"Oh my God, really?"

A husky laugh slipped from his lips as he finally reached her, leaning down to press warm lips against her cheek. "Really. What are you doing here?"

"What a small world," she murmured, lost for just a moment in his copper brown eyes. "I'm staying with Charlie for awhile. Just got settled a couple days ago."

"Well, isn't this good news. I missed you, Bells. We all did."

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she glanced up at this almost-stranger through her lashes and offered a tentative smile. "You've grown up."

"So have you. You're beautiful, Bella."

"Oh...thank you."

He glanced up at the storm clouds rolling in before speaking. "Listen, I'd love to catch up. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

The next few hours passed in easy conversation, a slow introduction into the people they had become. On the ride back to Bella's truck, she brought up Jacob. "So, what's Jake up to these days?"

Embry shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat of his truck. "He's been gone for about five years now."

"Gone?"

"Yeah. Leah, his wife, she im—fell in love with someone else about two years after their wedding, she asked for a divorce, and Jake...he just couldn't take it. So he packed a bag and left."

The cab filled with silence until the car meandered slowly past a house that Bella remembered well. "The Cullen's Lot," she whispered.

"You know the stories?"

She nodded, shifting toward him unconsciously. "Yes, I remember."

"You sound scared," he teased., wondering what she'd think if she knew that the Cullens, that vampires, were real. "They're just legends to scare you over a campfire."

She nodded half-heartedly. "I went in there once, you know."

"You did?"

"Yes, on a stupid childhood dare."

Mischief rife in his voice, he squeezed her knee and asked, "So, were the stories true? Ghosts and vampires roaming the halls?"

There was no humor in her voice when she responded. She sounded far away, as if she were back inside that place. "It was...something. Creaking and groaning. The windows, I remember rust brown streaks on those big windows, like dried blood. It didn't strike me until I saw a hand print, there, sliding down through what was once wet and warm. I didn't stay long after that, but I could feel...something. There was something there."

They were quiet for the rest of the ride, lost in her memories. Before she climbed up into her old truck to head home, Embry pulled her toward him with a hand at her waist and she met his lips in an easy, spine-tingling kiss.

It was the first time of many that Embry Call would kiss Bella Swan.

~oOo~

Gossip was ripe around town in both Forks and La Push. Bella Swan, big shot writer, had returned to her hometown and she'd been sighted hanging all over that Embry Call.

"Embry Call? Which one's Call?"

"You know," some old biddy would answer, gnarled fingers twisted up in a yellowed phone cord. "He's the one whose mother won't speak up on who his father is. One of them big ones from down on the Rez."

This was the way in a small, sleepy town like Forks. The telephone game was a way of life, and the citizens took pride in how well they played it. When the days moved by in a slow rainy haze, there wasn't much to look forward to. The blossoming romance between that girl who'd made it big and the bastard boy from the Rez was Big News.

~oOo~

5:00am

Sue Clearwater stood in front of a gleaming metal table, sorting through boxes of bandages and drug samples with absentminded hands. A yawn escaped, interrupting a badly hummed tune, as she stared out the window and let her mind wander.

She thought she might accept Charlie Swan's offer of dinner and a movie in Port Angeles this weekend. It had been two years since Harry died, and she finally felt as if she could take a full breath.

She'd never tell her children this, of course, but the older the man got, the higher his blood pressure had risen, the more nasty he'd become. Harry rarely hit her, but his words were sharp as filleting knives. No, don't think about that. Sue was finally free.

She breathed in the faint sunshine rising up over the trees and smiled. It was a beautiful thing to breathe.

8:30am

The wails of an infant rang throughout the Newton house, Jessica sat huddled on the expensive, velvet couch wondering how more she could take. The older two were off to school and she couldn't be more grateful, but that damn baby had been colicky and screaming all night. She felt like she hadn't slept in years. Since before the first one came.

A chilled bottle clutched in her hand, she climbed the stairs wearily. "I'm coming. Please, please shut up. I'm coming."

The wailing didn't stop, her head was pounding, and she knew she should have heated the damn bottle up, but she figured if the kid was that damn hungry, he'd take what she gave him and just be quiet. Standing in front of the crib, so close to the incessant noise, she found herself shrieking at the top of her lungs to match his. It shook him for a moment and the crying stopped. She thought, for that one blessed moment, that she could finally have some peace.

But he just started again, a shade higher and she exploded. The bottle was aimed and released before she realized what she was doing and her little boy lay stunned, on his back, with a round, red mark on the left side of his forehead. This time, she wailed in earnest, curled at the base of his antique crib.

Would it ever stop?

1:00pm

Paul Lahote had little Seth Clearwater bent over his grandmother's antique dining table. He'd been dreaming of just this for years, and Seth wasn't so little anymore, but he was balls deep in that sweet ass and it wasn't the first time.

The sounds of hoarse groans and the squeaks of table legs sliding across tiled floors filled the sunny yellow kitchen, and Paul felt, for the first time in so long, as if the outside world had drifted away. It was just the two of them, bodies locked together in a heated push and pull.

The day he imprinted, he'd thought he'd never have this; trapped forever in a loveless relationship, bound so tightly to that soulless bitch, he just wanted to close his eyes and disappear. Seth made it better though, his body pliant underneath Paul's, so quiet and willing to listen when the sex was over.

For the first time in his entire life, Paul _cared_.

3:30pm

It had been a slow day in Mike Newton's real estate office, so he sat with his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up drinking a glass of bourbon as he read over a contract for the old Weber house. They'd decided to move closer to town and after a year on the market a young couple with a passel of kids had put in a decent offer.

He was busy wishing for a client dinner so he wouldn't have to go home when the bell on the front door rung as it swung open. Setting down the contract, he yanked on his tie and stood to greet the man who entered.

Dressed in an expensive black suit, the man made Mike uneasy. His skin had a strange, papery texture and once he stopped in front of the desk, he held himself so still it was hard to tell if he was even breathing.

Stretching a hand out over his desk, Mike greeted his new customer, "Welcome to Newton's Real Estate. I'm Mike—"

The man cut him off before he could finish pouring out his well-practiced spiel. "Yes, I know who you are. You may call me Mr. Volturi. I wish to purchase the old Cullen home." His oddly accented voice, dry as dust, sent chills running down Mike's spine.

"Of course. I...um...are you sure that's the house you're interested in? It was only lived in for a decade back in the 20s and no one's been out there to care for it since."

"Is it not for sale?"

Backpedaling as fast as he could, Mike responded, "No, no, of course it's for sale. I'm sure we can negotiate a good deal with the estate trustees, seeing as how it's been just sitting there deteriorating for so long."

"That won't be necessary. I'll pay the asking price. Cash."

Who was this guy, Mike wondered? "Alright then, I'll just need a bit of time to draw up the offer."

"I do have...a condition or two, Mr. Newton."

Something about that drawn out pause seemed ominous, but he was seeing dollar signs and maybe he could finally hire that nanny that Jessica had been bitching about. "What kind of conditions?"

A slight rustle of cloth hinted at movement, but he stood still as a marble statue in the middle of the room. "Your discretion, for one."

"I've never been one to speak out of turn, Mr. Volturi."

"Of course, of course, but it should be reiterated to make sure that you understand how...important...it is for any business matters between us to remain that way."

Mike settled back in his favorite chair and nodded. He slept and ate negotiations; this was his game. "I understand. And your second condition?"

"From time to time, I or my associates may have a small job which requires someone of your previously discussed discretion. Cash again of course. Just small, insignificant things, furniture delivery perhaps, or the hiring of cleaners."

"I'd expected to deal with things along those lines."

"Then we have a deal?"

Placing his hand in the stranger's ice cold grip, he ignored the weird, hard texture of his skin and agreed. "We have a deal."

"Very good, Mr. Newton. I look forward to doing business with you."

The fluorescent lights caught the man's face as he turned to leave, and in the midst of mentally running numbers and contract negotiations, Mike wondered if he'd imagined the flash of red encircling those cold, brown eyes.

6:15pm

Collin Littlesea and Brady Fuller moved through the La Push forest in a wash of raucous laughter and rustling as they tromped across low shrubs and fallen tree limbs. At twelve years old, they were still at an age where girls were a bit of an enigma and the outdoors called to them when boredom struck.

"You think we can get Old Man Quil to sell us those dirt bikes he's got out back a his house?" Brady asked, jumping over a fallen log in his path.

"I dunno. Where would we get the money for that anyway? You spent all your allowance on dumb comics this month."

Lashing out with his fist in an unsuccessful attempt to hit his best friend's shoulder, he made a noise of disagreement. "Did not. I told you, my Ma didn't have enough to give me the full amount this month and Joey Masterson sold me one of his Dad's _Playboys _for ten bucks. I showed it to ya."

"Yeah, whatever. Maybe I can con my old man out of a couple bucks if you help me chop some wood for him."

Collin was so focused on kicking the brush in the vicinity of his new sneakers out of the way that he almost missed the flash of white passing between the two oak trees immediately ahead.

"Hey, man. Did you see that?"

"See what?" Brady asked.

Wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, Collin shrugged and inched slightly closer to his friend. "I dunno. Thought I saw somethin'."

His head whipped around at another shimmering glimpse of white followed by a flaming red. That's when the screaming began. He spun back around to face Brady, but he was gone, his voice a hoarse, desperate echo in the surrounding forest.

Wet warmth leaking down into his shiny, new sneakers, Collin ran.

9:00pm

The wolves were out in bare-chested muscular force to join in the search for little Brady Fuller. Sam Uley and Jared Cameron phased so that they could use their senses a bit better, while Quil Ateara along with Leah Clearwater and Paul Lahote went on foot.

Embry was currently trying to slip out of his own house with Bella over, cooking dinner for the two of them. The howl had gone up twenty minutes ago, and he still hadn't figured out how to leave without making her think he was running out on her.

Duty over pleasure. Heaving a worn-out sigh, he slipped behind her at the stove and brushed his lips down the side of her neck.

"Hey baby?"

"Hmm?"

"I forgot I needed to run over to my boss's house and drop off the blueprints for that job we're starting next week. Can dinner wait a bit?"

Bella could tell he was lying, but let him get away with it. She hoped she was right to trust him. "Sure. I'll let the sauce simmer on low."

Spinning her around, he pressed his lips to hers, running his tongue along the seam until her mouth opened in a sigh and she completely forgot his lie. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Over the next two days the entire town searched for Brady. His parents were devastated, the local children were terrified, and Brady Fuller had disappeared as if he'd gone up in smoke.

~oOo~

Two months after Mr. Volturi had closed on the old Cullen home, Mike received a phone call requesting him to hire a couple of men to pick up a truck full of furniture in Seattle and deliver it. After settling on a price, he agreed, calling in Tyler Crowley and Ben Cheney to drive and haul.

On a dreary Wednesday morning, the two men drove up the curved drive and parked in front of the large white house, whistling at the sea of windows overtaking the front.

Fancy shmancy, Ben thought, whistling at the extravagant home sprawled out before them.

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler grumbled, hauling himself out of the truck. "It's a real beaut. Let's just get this shit unloaded and head out. This place's always given me the creeps."

They worked steadily over the next few hours hauling ostentatious furniture into the cavernous rooms, not even stopping for regular smoke breaks. The house freaked them right the fuck out.

It was when Tyler carried the last piece, a small marble topped end table upstairs, that Ben saw it. A small crumbled pair of blue jeans and a shredded red t-shirt lay in a wrinkled ball at the base of the stairs leading down to the basement. Wasn't that boy...?

A low clattering rose up the stairs and just before he turned to flee, he saw what he could've sworn to be the pasty, rubbery limb of a corpse flop down along the bottom step.

Shrieking for Tyler over his shoulder, Ben ran.

~oOo~

Charlie Swan watched his daughter disappear before his eyes for the second time. His baby girl had become so wrapped up in that Call boy, he rarely saw her anymore. It was bittersweet. He supposed, if she married him, at least she'd stay in town, where he could see her. Could teach his grandbabies how to fish and play ball.

It was hard to imagine, though. He could still picture Bella at six years old, pig tails crooked and clutching an Elmo backpack, as he walked her into her first grade class room. His sweet baby girl.

He took a large gulp of his beer as he watched said sweet baby girl swallow that boy's tongue on his front porch.

Shaking his head, he moved away from the window and picked up the files on the Fuller boy's disappearance. It was technically an internal Quileute matter, but they just didn't have the resources to deal with it, so he'd had the case dumped on his desk. The boy had been gone for three months now, and he didn't see him miraculously walking out of the woods any time soon. His grief stricken mother agreed; the memorial would be held a week from today.

Something weird was going on in his town. Charlie was determined to find out just what the fuck it was.

~oOo~

Summer had blended seamlessly into Fall and Embry and Bella stood huddled together at the empty grave of little Brady Fuller.

"It's so sad, someone so young gone and we don't even know what happened," Bella whispered against Embry's frayed suit coat.

Squeezing her tight against his side, Embry kissed the top of her soft, brown curls. "Yeah. It is."

The priest closed his missal. "Let us pray as our Lord taught us," he said quietly. "Our Father who art in heaven..."

"No!'" John Fuller screamed and propelled himself forward. "You ain't gonna throw no dirt on my boy!"

Hands reached out to stay him, but they were belated.

For a moment he tottered on the edge of the grave, and then the fake grass wrinkled and gave way. He fell into the hole and landed on the coffin with a horrid, hollow thump.

"Brady, you come outta there!" he bawled.

"Oh, my," Mrs. Weber said, and pressed her black silk funeral hankie to her lips. Her eyes were bright and avid, storing this the way a squirrel stores nuts for the winter.

"Brady, goddammit, you stop this fucking around!"

The priest nodded at two of the pallbearers and they stepped forward, but three other men, including Sam Uley and Jared Cameron, had to step in before Fuller could be gotten out of the grave, kicking and screaming and howling.

"Brady, you stop it now! You got your Momma scared! I'm gonna whip your butt for you! Lemme go! Lemme go . . . I want m'boy . . . let me go, you pricks . . . ahhh, God—"

"Our Father who art in heaven—" the priest began again, and other voices joined him, lifting the words toward the indifferent shield of the sky.

"—hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done—"

"Brady, you come to me, hear? You hear me?"

"—on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us—"

'"Bradeeee—"

"—our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us—"

"He ain't dead, he ain't dead, let go a me you miserable assholes."

"—and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Through Christ our Lord, amen."

"Oh, God," Bella breathed, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

"Let's go," Embry murmured, shielding her from the scene before them, the broken man and his young son's empty casket. "Let's go home."

It was strange how she didn't find it weird when he called his place home. He had become, she realized, the only home she needed.

That night, in front of a flickering fire, they made love for the first time. His unnatural heat enveloping her, she licked the salt and sweat from his skin as he plunged into her, burying himself as far into her softness as he could go. It was an affirmation. A benediction. And when they were done, they lay there, bodies wrapped up in each other, and listened to the sound of their slowing breaths and the crackling of the logs enshrouded in flames.

~oOo~

Mack Cameron was pulling a graveyard shift at the gas station bordering Forks and La Push. He hadn't had a single customer since 10:30pm, so he was chain smoking Pall Malls and looking at the latest glossy titty mag around back.

He was startled out of his lust-induced trance by the appearance of a smiling man dressed in black formal wear. Wondering what the hell this guy was doing in a suit at this time of night, he stubbed out his cigarette and shifted the magazine so it wouldn't be obvious what he'd been looking at.

"Something I can help you with?"

"Just out for a breath of this wonderful night air, kind sir." Cheer dripped from the man's voice, but Mack found himself distracted by the way his skin almost glowed in the overhead lights. It looked like cracked granite. "Were you enjoying your book?"

Glancing at the magazine with a confused frown, he hesitantly nodded. "Yeah. Them books got good articles, you know?"

"I don't believe I do," the man murmured.

Soft humming floated across the parking lot, moving Mack to stand up in search of what could possibly be making that noise.

"Do you hear that?"

"Why don't you look at me, Mr. Cameron?"

"How do you know my—" His words were cut off the minute he met the man's red eyes. Red eyes?

"Have you enjoyed your evening, Mr. Cameron?"

He felt as if he were drowning in the strange man's gaze, being sucked in by some invisible force. "Yeah. Yeah, it's been a good night."

"That's wonderful to hear," the man said, gesturing off to his left.

The last thing Mack saw before the pain overtook him was a small blonde child with eyes just as red as the man who had him trapped.

—and then the sucking sounds.

~oOo~

"...did you hear? Embry Call got caught with his pants down and his hand up Bella's shirt by her Daddy. Surprised he didn't get his shotgun..."

"...I heard they found his body naked and drained of blood..."

"...wonder if it's got somethin' to do with that Fuller boy disappearin'..."

"...somethin' weird goin' on in this town ever since that Swan girl come home..."

"...Collin, that missing boy's little friend, was found dead in his padded room. Yeah, they admitted him to the psych ward; the charge nurse found him, sure enough..."

"...I haven't been able to pick up my prescription for days. Where the hell could Old Quil have got to? My arthritis is actin' up something fierce..."

And so it went, the grapevine moved swiftly from Forks to La Push and back again. There was something strange going on in Forks.

~oOo~

The next morning, a Sunday, the churches were overflowing with women clutching hand-me-down rosaries and men cradling their heads from last night's drink. The pack met in Sam's living room to discuss what the hell was going on.

Seth Clearwater had shifted out of the blue, and they had been completely bewildered, considering there hadn't been a vampire around in at least five years. A quick patrol had straightened things right out.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do, Sam?" Paul shouted, he was even more pissed than the situation necessitated since his imprint was currently hanging off his arm like a designer purse. "There were so many trails I couldn't even tell one leech from the next. We're not equipped to handle this shit."

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his ragged buzz cut. "We do what we can. Double patrols, imprints stay together, we protect the Rez."

Kim, Jared's quiet imprint, spoke up for the very first time in a pack meeting. "What about Forks? His Daddy was killed in Forks, so who's gonna protect them?"

Tears welled in Jared's red-rimmed eyes, but he wouldn't shed them, not here, not now.

Sam shook his head and hauled Emily in closer, seeking some sort of reassurance. "We just don't have the manpower. I'm sorry, but our people come first."

"That's bullshit," Quil called out. "We can't just sit here and let them pick those people off.

"Bella," Embry muttered.

"What about her?" Sam asked.

"I need to tell her. She has to know so I can keep her safe, here on the Rez."

Sam shook his head, although it looked as if it pained him to say it, he did anyway. "You can't. She's not an imprint. I'm sorry."

An uproar rose at that, and the arguments continued long into the night. Embry slipped away an hour in, trying desperately to figure out how to make the woman he loved safe. Then he had it.

The orders had always been not to _tell_ anyone the secret. He'd just have to _show _her.

~oOo~

Mike Newton came home from work to the absence of a baby's cries. It didn't register at first, the unnatural quiet, he was too wrapped up in the trouble in town which seemed to have begun the moment Mr. Volturi walked into his office. He'd been forced to blackmail those idiot movers to keep them from running to the police, and each strange occurrence in town appeared to lead straight back to the new inhabitants of that damn house.

He was sure he was cursed.

"Jess?" he called out, letting the front door slam shut behind him.

The echo of his voice jerked him out of his thoughts. "Baby?"

A trail of red painted the pristine hardwood floors in a meandering path from where he stood into the living room. Is that? No, not blood.

In a moment like this, time skids to a halt and the world shifts into slow motion. He knew. Knew that something was wrong, that his girl was gone, but when he jolted himself back into reality, he moved as if he had some home.

He slipped and slid into the next room, coming to a shuddering halt at the view of his wife's naked body sprawled across their couch. "Oh, God." There was something not right about her now, her skin seemed harder, shinier somehow, and her twisted limbs were contracted at sharp, awkward angles.

"The baby. Jesus, where the fuck's the baby?" Mike took off up the stairs to the nursery, trying not to think too hard about his wife of ten years, dead on the last place they'd made love.

The nursery was empty. No hungry cries or quiet burbles. Empty. A tiny blue soft-soled sneaker lay on the crib mattress, the one decorated with happy yellow ducks. He picked it up in utter shock, only to see the blood, sticky and tacky coating the bottom.

"No," he breathed.

Any further thought was erased by the pain-filled shrieks coming from his wife's cold corpse on the floor below.

~oOo~

Lauren Mallory was bored. She had her mouth wrapped around some guy's dick, she couldn't be bothered to remember his name, and she let out an occasional moan to let him know how much she was enjoying herself. No need for him to figure out that she was mentally composing her grocery shopping list.

She had a kid to feed, you know.

It took her a full minute to realize his frantic thrusts had stilled; she pulled back, wiping spit from the corner of her painted red lips and looking up in confusion. There was a glazed look in his cloudy blue eyes that had her slowly backing away. What the fuck?

Before she could turn and run, she knew to trust her gut, he whispered, "Yes," as if to thin air and wrapped a strong hand around her throat. She was still trying to get away when he twisted her neck to the left with loud snap.

~oOo~

Sue Clearwater woke in the middle of the night to use the restroom. She stumbled through her shadowed room toward the hall bath, stubbing her toe on her mother's hope chest and cursing as quietly as possible so as not to wake her son.

Shuffling on slippered feet, she sat down on the freezing cold porcelain and did her business, eyes still hazed over from sleep. She would never know what possessed her to glance into the mirror on her way past, childhood party games calling for Bloody Mary stayed with her to this day, so she almost never looked when the room was dark. But she did today.

It was moonlight across polished stone, a glint of silver before the rock hard hand wrapped around her mouth and teeth as sharp as razors sliced through the delicate skin of her throat. She never even had time to scream or the chance to see her son's once strong body spread out like a cadaver across her well-tended lawn.

~oOo~

Charlie Swan knew that something was coming for him. He'd watched his neighbors, his friends, disappear. But he was a brave man, and that's how he met death on a cloudy Tuesday night. Sitting relaxed on his front porch, a cold Rainier clutched in his weathered hand, he waited.

"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

When they came, he didn't scream. No, Charlie Swan died a warrior's death under those hazy stars.

The last thing he saw was a set of crooked pig tails and big brown eyes that she got from him.

~oOo~

The Volturi stood, still outside of their solid black coats floating in the breeze, behind the white house. It seemed almost a formal ritual, with three up in front of the rest, as if they were receiving their dues. A small blonde girl and an almost identical boy, both of whom appeared to be no older than thirteen, stood before them, heads bowed just slightly toward the ground.

The man with the cheerful smile grazed the girl's cheek, a sound like rocks rubbing together echoing around them. "You've done well."

"Master." Her voice, high and breathy, sounded almost obscene in the eerie atmosphere. She stretched out her arm to hand him a cup, all their eyes locked to the thick viscous liquid that sloshed against the sides of the crystal glass.

The icy blonde one to the right gave a feral grin. "Beautiful. We desecrate their holy ground while they chase deer across the country."

A tinkling laugh from the smiling man. "Yes, brother, the Cullen's have no idea what their obstinacy has wrought."

A small blue sneaker passed from the young boy's hand to his Master's ended the nightly meeting on a jovial note. ''Ah, the sweetness of youth."

No, the Cullen's had no idea at all. They would soon though, the Volturi would make sure of it.

~oOo~

Forks had gone to ruin. Half the inhabitants missing, others gone strange and feral. The pack knew what was going on, but there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. Sam and Jared fell to a redhead and a man with dreads when their imprints hearts stopped. Paul managed to make it through  
Rachel's death, but when his sweet, little Seth was discovered cold and stiff outside his mother's home, he took off on a suicide run and was killed before he even made it off the Rez. Quil disappeared on a late night patrol along with Leah, and it was really no time at all before it was just Embry and Bella holed up in the Call home, terrified and unsure.

"I have to go out."

She clutched him to her with all the strength in her all too human arms. "No, you can't. Oh, God." Tears slid down her cheeks in a torrent. She'd shed more since coming here than she had in her entire life. "If you leave, you'll never come back."

Rocking her small body from side to side, he shushed her. "I have to. We need to know what's going on, Bells. You have to be strong for me, Baby."

"Oh...okay." She hiccuped before squaring her shoulders and planting a solid kiss on his lips. "Be safe."

He nodded solemnly before ghosting out the door.

She spent the following hours praying to every God her frantic mind could conjure. Please let him come home to me. She opened her swollen lids and shrieked when her muddy brown eyes met a pair of golden. Crawling backward on hands and feet, she stammered, "Who, who are you? You're one of them, aren't you?"

He ignored her question and stalked closer, strange bronze hair rustling as if caught in an invisible breeze. "We thought we could stop them you know. Alice said so, she saw it. But she saw you here ten years ago, too. Did you know we were to be married?"

"Wh...what? I don't understand."

"Oh, it never happened of course. Just like now. We'll never be able to stop this. It's madness. You smell so good, like fresh-picked strawberries. Did you know that?"

He was so close now, she could feel his frigid breath blowing across her skin. "It's my shampoo."

"No, no it's your life's blood. In a sane world, I'd walk, no run, away. But here we are and the town is burning to ash, a disaster beyond my ability to stop." His eyes were pitch black now, obsidian carved in the middle of bleached bone. "You smell so good and I have no reason to stop."

Embry came flying through the closed door, but he was too late. The vampire with the strange eyes had his teeth sunk deep into Bella's neck. He never had the chance to feel shame for his new glowing red gaze. The enraged wolf tore him to pieces right there in the living room.

Picking up his lover's limp body, he grabbed his wallet and ran, as far and fast as he could. In an abandoned shack hundreds of miles from that cursed town, he spent three days crying silently over Bella as she burned.

She woke to hoarse whispers of "I'm sorry. So sorry." It didn't change a thing.

Her mind was strangely calm though, and everything was so clear. She pet his bowed head with her stone hand and plotted. "We'll burn them."

"What?"

"You said fire kills them."

"Yeah," he cleared his swollen throat and ignored the burn in his nostrils from her bleach and sugar smell. "Yeah, they burn."

"We'll need help."

Their eyes met, enemy to enemy, lover to lover, and they spoke at the same time. "Jacob."

~oOo~

It took them a year to find Jacob Black, holed up in a shithole deep into Mexico City. During that time, the town of Forks died its final death. If anyone were left alive, there was no one left to hear their dying words anyway. No one left to care if you were predator or food. The only ones who had the power to make it stop were gone or dead themselves, watching apathetically from beyond.

~oOo~

The day they returned it was, for once, dry as the desert. They came equipped with flamethrowers and drums of gasoline, matches and torches. Forks would burn.

It was a grim, silent trio that stealthily set fire to the town, the boys wiping sweat off their overheated skin. The last year had proved that cold stone and hot flesh couldn't come together, so even though they lived they'd lost their lives in this ghost town. Jacob Black was a silent bystander, still stunned by the devastation of his childhood home.

The flames rose to a blistering fury before the vampires realized what was going on, pained wails and purple smoke floated across the night sky. The three watched the devastation in satisfaction. It was Jacob who asked, "What next?"

Bella Swan took a deep, unnecessary breath and leaned in to press a frozen kiss to the lips of the only man she'd ever loved.

"Bells?"

Golden eyes met copper brown and she offered a crooked smile. "You live." And then she was gone. Moving so fast all they saw was a blur, she ran right into the blaze, burning to ash and smoke right before their disbelieving eyes. Embry's body was right behind her before the solid band of his friend's arm wrapped around his chest like a vice.

"No," Jake said, voice thick with tears. "No, she asked us to live. So we will."

They turned and headed back the way they came, not caring about destination or distance. Forks no longer existed.

Neither man looked back.


End file.
